


Take Me To Church

by CorvidFightClub



Category: Captain America (Movies), Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: Blasphemy, Bondage and Discipline, F/M, Masochism, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, mention of assault/rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-04-16 22:56:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4643142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CorvidFightClub/pseuds/CorvidFightClub
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No masters or kings when the ritual begins. There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin. In the madness and soil of that sad, earthly scene, only then I am human, only then I am clean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take Me To Church

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bactaqueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bactaqueen/gifts).



> This is a trainwreck. It was supposed to be just sexy but apparently I am incapable? This is your warning. Feelings. Also it’s bactaqueen‘s fault <3

Bucky’s muscles shook as he walked into the gym locker room. He kicked off his sneakers, peeled off his clothes and ducked into the showers. He couldn’t feel the water when it hit him, but he went through the motions. Hair, shoulders, the rest of him. It felt like bathing in static. He didn’t stay longer than he had to.

His Sundays were rigid these days. Up at three-thirty, running by four. The gym opened at six.

Then he went to church.

The church had been small, familiar, dark with splashes of color from the stained glass windows, just like the pastor in his slacks, a Red Cross pin on his lapel. He had opened his Bible at the podium, read from his notes in a quavering voice that somehow reached the far corners of the room.

Bucky had sat in the back on one of the padded pews, listening, watching the sun climb up the window over the pastor’s head, and didn’t hear a damn thing. The people around him had been wrapped up in it. Red eyes, solemn faces, clenched hands in their laps.

Watching the pastor’s lips, Bucky had kept listening. He had clung to one word, then the next. He had fumbled for the broken-spined book in the cubby on the pew in front of him, stood up, sat down, listened listened listened.

Only God wasn’t talking to him.

Gym bag over one shoulder, Bucky got off the bus and hiked it up a side street. He was getting better at picking up directions on his own again without somebody telling him where he was.

Kendra’s house was small, white, with a standard mailbox and a Beware of Dog sign on the fence. Bucky walked around and let himself into the garage, then up the three steps next to Kendra’s sedan and into the house.

Anubis was in the living room, head on his black and brown paws with his tall ears up, watching as Bucky went upstairs. His officer had passed and Anubis wouldn’t work with anybody else, Kendra had explained, so she took him. “You aren’t my first soldier,” she had said.

Bucky opened the door to the spare bedroom. He put his gym bag down on the bed with the heavy wooden frame, then he stripped down, folded his clothes in neat piles and left them on the edge of the mattress. He put his sneakers together—toes out-just under the bed.

Naked, he opened the second pocket of the gym bag. He pulled out the leather collar first, let it rest over his shoulder as he put on the matching leather cuffs on his wrists, ankles. The D-rings jingled when he put on the collar.

He knelt down on the carpet next to the bed and faced the door.

He’d left the church, fifth Sunday in a row, with just the word ‘amen’ stuck in his head. Bucky could’ve described at least half the congregation in detail. What they had worn, how many kids they’d had, who put how much in the donation basket when it came around.

But when Steve had asked, Bucky couldn’t tell him about the sermon.

That day Bucky had kept walking. If he had gone home, Steve would’ve asked, and he would’ve felt worse.

Bucky had ended up in a coffee shop. He had ordered something simple and dark, then found an empty table between two bookshelves.

Kendra had been sitting on a diagonal from him, a stack of textbooks on her table next to her laptop. He didn’t talk to her, didn’t even notice her much that time. Instead he’d pulled down a book from the shelf next to him and thumbed through it.

He heard Kendra come up the stairs and felt a tight knot of anticipation in his groin. She—Ma’am—came into the room in her high heels, black pants, and a blazer top that showed she wasn’t wearing anything underneath. She tapped one calf muscle with the thin black cane she held.

“What did you forget?” she demanded.

Bucky made a frantic run through his mental checklist and came up empty-handed. “Ma’am—”

Kendra pointed with the cane at the end of the bed. “Crawl.”

A cold sweat on the small of his back, Bucky crawled over to the spot between the foot of the bed and the dresser against the wall. He put his hands on the bedposts and waited.

She came up behind him and tied his wrists to the O-rings set into the bedposts. The fake arm didn’t bother her at all; she had only asked if it was safe to tie him, if he could put his weight against it. Thankfully Stark knew how to make ‘em sturdy.

Bucky curled his fingers around the wood under his hands, smooth as a pew, moving his knees on the carpet when she nudged them where she wanted them.

A hand with long red nails grabbed his hair and pulled his head back. Hair tie, he’d forgotten the hair tie, he thought as the tip of the black cane went between his thighs. He jerked when it tapped against his balls and dick.

“So you think you’re going to get special treatment?” she demanded.

“No ma’am,” he said, the taste of adrenaline bitter in his mouth. Pavlov’s pain dog.

The cane cracked across his ass. He opened his eyes, stared at the small cross hung over the headboard of the bed. Left there by the previous tenant, she’d said. She kept meaning to take it down. He never told her but his attention would get stuck in the hollow under Jesus’s ribcage, drawn into that shadow when his vision went hazy and stars shot through his vision.

Kendra knew how to take a man apart.

“Are you okay?”

Rain had been hitting the windows of the coffee shop and crawling down the collar of his jacket into his shirt. He hadn’t gone to church that day, hadn’t even tried, just walked through the rain. Trying to find some quiet. Looking for some place to hide. He’d gone in, trying to lose himself in a quiet corner with a book and coffee.

Then she’d appeared over the edge of his book, sitting in the chair opposite him, watching him like a live grenade without a pin. He’d remembered her, had looked over and saw her books and laptop at her usual table.

“Fine,” he’d said.

“You haven’t turned a page in twenty minutes,” she’d said. She’d looked at his still full coffee cup with its swirl of creamer, unstirred and cold. “I’ll get you a refresher. Be right back.” She’d picked up his cup and went to the counter. Bucky had watched her, all the words stuck in his throat, until she’d come back and put a fresh coffee between his hands.

“Thanks,” he’d said. He’d looked at the book he was holding and set it aside, taking the coffee in his real hand. The warm cup had felt good.

She’d sat down in the chair across from him again. “So how’s your morning been?” she’d asked. Her eyes were on his. No twitches, no tells of a lie. She’d just wanted to know.

Bucky had taken a red stirrer from the cup on the table, swirled it around in his drink. Good, fine, normal day just like everybody else’s, he’d thought.

“Sorry,” she’d said, sitting back. She’d picked at something on her sleeve. “I’ve seen you in here before. You just…” She’d sighed. “You don’t look good today. Comparatively, I mean.” She’d taken off her glasses and put them on the table, then had rubbed her eyes. “Okay,” she’d said. “Let me try this again.” She’d dropped her hands to the table, dark red nails clicking on the tabletop. “I’m Kendra. You look like you’re having a bad day. You have a cute butt and I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

Bucky had stared at her and laughed.

Kendra had smiled like it was her plan all along.

Sagging against the bedframe, Bucky rested his chin on the top of the footboard. The static was gone. He was tuned into a new frequency that burned in his muscles, told him where he ended and the rest of the world began. Thick and golden like sunlight though tall glass windows. He shifted. His cock ached between his legs. It’d started happening the third or fourth time he’d come to Kendra for this. Nothing to be ashamed of, she’d said. Bodies react to pain in different ways. Then she’d smiled with her red lips, Better question is, what do you want to do about it?    

“Up,” Kendra barked, swatting his side with the cane.

Bucky shifted his knees and leaned up on them again, hands on the square poles of the footboard for support. Kendra gripped the back of his collar while she untied him from the posts, then pulled him to his feet and around to the side of the bed where she pushed him down again. Cool sheets met his burning back and he shuddered. He stung from his shoulders to the backs of his knees. Kendra wasn’t used to someone like him yet; she could hit him anywhere without lasting damage, but she kept to the safe areas. For her own peace of mind, she’d admitted.

Bucky moved where she guided him so she could tie his hands to the headboard, stretching him out on his back now, cock hard against his stomach and throbbing in time with his heart.

Kendra shed her pants and a pair of dark, lacy underwear. She climbed onto the bed, reached for the condom and lube on the nightstand. With quick fingers she tore open the wrapper, picked up his dick and rolled the condom on. She squeezed a little extra lube onto the head of his erection from the bottle, then tossed it aside as she straddled his hips. One hand held him steady while she lowered onto him, hot, tight, angry as the welts on his back.

Bucky had gone to meet her at the coffee shop one morning and found her outside. She’d been at one of the outdoor tables, cigarette between her fingers, staring at something down the road. “Sorry, I have to cancel today,” she’d said.

He’d frowned, sat down with her. “What happened?” he’d asked, because something had happened. The prickling down his good arm told him so.

Her lips had tightened. She’d looked at him with her dark brown eyes like she wanted to shiv somebody and leave the body in a dumpster. “I’m allowed to have my bad days, too,” she’d replied.

Bucky had crossed his arms. “I’ll get you something. We’ll go for a walk,” he’d said and went inside the coffee shop before she could tell him no. But she was still there when he’d come back and took the Styrofoam cup when he’d offered it. They’d walked over an overpass towards the park, not saying anything.

“How close are you to graduating?” he’d asked.

Kendra had sipped her drink. “Three semesters. Two real ones and another to fill in some requirements,” she’d said, shifting her bag on her shoulder. “Did you go to school?”

Bucky had given her a sarcastic smile. “The military paid better,” he’d said.

They had stopped on a footbridge over a small stream. Kendra had stopped, leaned her elbow on the railing. Then she’d turned to him. “I’m telling you this because we play together, that’s the only reason.” She’d taken a sip of her drink, then stared out at the enclosed dog park in the distance. “I dated a dirtbag awhile back. I got away from him and he stalked me for, oh, about a month. He broke into my house, threatened me, made me do some things I didn’t want to do. Was going to rape me, but I crawled out a window while he was cutting phone wires.”

Bucky had felt the world swim for a minute, cold, chemical tastes in his mouth. Name? Last known location? “Where’s he now?”  

“Some penitentiary.” Kendra had shrugged. “I got an acceptance letter right after the court put him away and moved here.”

“Is he threatening you? Are you afraid?”

Kendra had shook her head. “Worse,” she’d said. “Sometimes…I miss him.” She’d finished her coffee, looked at the cup in her hand and crushed it. “That pisses me off.”

Bucky’s mouth dropped open in a silent moan. She was riding him like she wanted to break him in half, one hand closed around his throat above the leather collar. Every thrust of her hips pressed his abused back against the mattress springs. Her hand forced his head back until he was looking at the dark shape of the crucifix hanging over the bed, crossed feet, bent knees, a hollow ribcage. He’d offered her this after that day on the footbridge. Kendra had looked at him, then nodded and said she’d think about it. It wasn’t about sex, she’d said, and he’d agreed.

Kendra came with a low sound and the squeeze of her cunt around him pulled him over the edge with her. Bucky opened his eyes, breathing hard. She was looking down at him, dark eyes, a shadowy halo of hair, the rounded shape of her breasts under her blazer perfect and heavy. She wiped a thumb across her lips, then ran it across Bucky’s mouth where he could taste her and her lipstick.

“Amen,” he breathed. “Amen.”


End file.
